


two turtle doves

by cooliopio



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Post-Promised Day, Relationship Reveal, Secret Relationship, soft, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28637847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cooliopio/pseuds/cooliopio
Summary: Breda didn’t mean to walk in on their rather tender moment because said moment wasn’t even supposed to be happening. After the events of the promised day, everyone was rushing around getting their wounds taken care of, and the military was running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off trying to establish a new chain of command in the absence of the corrupt brass.So, really, Breda was just doing his job. Which was to deliver a document to Mustang which laid out Grumman’s suspiciously well-prepared furhership document.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	two turtle doves

**Author's Note:**

> context for title: "Turtle Doves are a symbol of love, friendship and devotion. They will stay together for a lifetime, which is part of the reason they are considered a sign of faithful and bonded love." --some google search result

Breda didn’t mean to walk in on their rather tender moment because said moment wasn’t even supposed to be _happening._ After the events of the promised day, everyone was rushing around getting their wounds taken care of, and the military was running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off trying to establish a new chain of command in the absence of the corrupt brass.

So, really, Breda was just doing his job. Which was to deliver a document to Mustang which laid out Grumman’s _suspiciously_ well-prepared furhership document. Breda couldn’t say he was surprised that Grumman was trying to get the fuhrer-presidency, the old bat. His convening aside, Breda couldn’t be too upset; Grumman was a good man, if a little eccentric.

Breda opened the door to the room housing both Mustang and Hawkeye silently. Not on purpose—the door hinges were just spectacularly oiled. He opened his mouth to talk as he raised his focus from the paper in his hands to locating the gazes of his superior officers, but he didn’t meet them, nor did he speak.

Breda’s mouth hung open in something akin to shock as he took in the sight before him.

Hawkeye was propped up in her hospital cot, as expected. But her legs were crisscrossed, making room for Mustang in front of her. He was also sat with his legs crisscrossed, but he was hunched over, with his forehead sat in the middle of Hawkeye’s lap.

Her fingers were raking through his hair, and he seemed to melt into her touch. Hawkeye bent down to whisper something lowly in Mustang’s ear and then pulled back, kissed the crown of his head, and leaned back in her bed before he could respond.

Mustang sighed and sat up straight before almost reluctantly swinging his legs over the side of her bed and standing up, back to Breda.

They still hadn’t noticed him, Breda noted.

Breda figured he would save them some embarrassment and anxiety—as their relationship was not exactly _legal_ —and closed the door a hair before opening it intentionally loud and cleared his throat.

Hawkeye jumped from the unexpected noise, and finally looked over to Breda.

He noticed that her eyes looked tired. Exhausted, really. But Breda supposed that came with the conditions of brushing hands with death. He also noticed that she looked a little lethargic, probably from her medicine keeping her pain at bay, which explained her not noticing Breda’s first entrance.

Mustang, his vision newly restored, spun on his heels to come face-to-face with Breda. With his eyes still sensitive from the light, Mustang squinted at him, taking a moment to realize who was at the door.

“Lieutenant Breda. Nice to see you, what’s the occasion?” Mustang asked, voice tired but putting forth a masquerade of confidence and command.

“Just documents, sir, from General Grumman. Shit to do with who’s in charge now that the brass has been stripped.

Mustang grunted in acknowledgement.

Hawkeye held her hand out, “give them to me, the Colonel would find some way to lose them in this room, I’m sure,” she said dryly.

“Hey,” Mustang objected, “This room is no bigger than fifteen by ten feet, I think I could manage, Lieutenant.”

He stuck his handout as well; Breda had to make the choice on who to give the documents to. The choice was rather obvious in his opinion.

Breda handed the papers to Hawkeye, “I’ll have to go with Hawkeye on this one, Boss.

Hawkeye clipped the documents into her clipboard that had been serving as her shoddy desk during her tenure at the recovery unit in the central military hospital, and Mustang grumbled something intelligible to Breda’s ears. Probably some empty threat about getting him court martialed for insubordination, if he knew the Colonel at all.

“Is that all, Breda?” Hawkeye asked, a tad more alert than earlier.

“Yep, that’s all from me. The rest of the crew will probably be in after dinner. You guys want me to pick you up anything while I’m out?” Breda lifted himself off the door jamb he found himself leaning on, signaling he was about to leave.

Hawkeye shook her head, “they have me on a liquid diet right now. They don’t want to risk my stitches tearing and the wound reopening with chewing and what not.”

Hawkeye looked over to Mustang, raising her eyebrow, “Colonel?”

Mustang shook his head, “no, thanks, Breda. I’ll figure my dinner out on my own, even if that means I’ll have to deal with the cardboard they’re trying to pass off as food here. You go get some rest; you deserve it.”

Breda nodded, not objecting. “Thanks guys. I’ll be back for those documents tomorrow morning to return to the General. But this is the last you’ll see of me today. I’m going to go sleep like the dead.”

Mustang chuckled and bid his farewells to the lieutenant as Breda politely shut the door and made his way out of the hospital.

\--

After Breda’s exist, Hawkeye began flipping through the documents from the General.

They were thorough.

As she went to pass the clipboard to Mustang for him to look over, a torn half sheet of paper slipped out from the bunch and floated onto the floor.

They looked at each other, confused. Mustang picked up the paper and read it silently.

After a few moments, his ears flamed red as blood drained from the rest of his face.

“Sir?” Hawkeye asked, “Is something wrong?”

Mustang shook his head and silently handed the note over to Hawkeye, avoiding eye contact.

Hawkeye wearily took the note from the Colonel’s grasp, and slowly turned the paper to the right orientation for her to read; she was cautious, and kind of afraid of what it had to say.

She soon came to realize she didn’t need to be. Her eyebrows furrowed in something more akin to fond frustration as she read what as on the paper:

_The next time you two decide to get so cozy in your hospital room, you might want to keep a sharper ear out for people coming in and out. You’re lucky your floor isn’t covered in vomit after what I saw. I thought I’d warn you in writing instead of embarrassing you guys in person, because I’m nice like that._

_\--Braidykins_

_P.s: don’t worry, my lips are sealed._

Hawkeye crumpled the note in her hands as she finished reading, while Mustang laughed.

“So much for your excellent observation skills, Lieutenant.”

Hawkeye threw the crumpled note at Mustang as he continued to laugh, “I’m high on morphine, _Roy_ , I think I can get a pass. At least it wasn’t anyone who would rat us out.”

Mustang shrugged, “even if it was, I don’t think we’d have to worry. Seems like your grandfather has his plans laid to be fuhrer-president, and he’s been trying to get me to marry his granddaughter for years. He’d save us the court martial.”

Hawkeye just glared at him sharply, so many retorts wrapped up in it.

Mustang sighed, “yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Mustang walked closer to her bedside to place a soft kiss on her forehead, “we’ll be more careful.”

The tension from Hawkeye’s shoulders disappeared at the contact, and she sighed, content.

\--

Breda exited the hospital with a smirk on his face and a spring in his step. He’ll have to change his bet in the betting pool. There was no way he was losing this one.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, braidykins if the canon code name for breda, as elizabeth is to riza, as jacqueline is to jean, and as kate is to fuery. 
> 
> ive been writing so much fic lately its like im a madman. My job closes all of january, and the semester hasnt started yet, so ive plenty of time to write write write. It's been fun! i intended this to be a <1000 drabble but aaaahhhh i cant restrain myself when im writing... whenever id want to end it id be like "well if _i_ was the reader id want to know what happened after that! so id just keep writing.... lol
> 
> kudos/comments always appreciated! tumblr @ unfairlawyer!


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